


When Death Deals, all Cards are Wild

by tahirire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-25
Updated: 2008-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-26 07:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tahirire/pseuds/tahirire





	When Death Deals, all Cards are Wild

Sam’s muscles tremble violently, veins surging underneath his skin as he fights against the ropes that hold him tight. He can hear his captor circling him in the dark, the footsteps a shuffling, staccato distortion of sound.

Sam catches a glimpse of the pale face and darkened eyes, and terror seizes him completely, threatening to steal his sanity away. The cold feel of Death’s certainty is reflected in that fathomless black.

There is a small flash in the dark, liquid and bright, appearing for only an instant but an instant is more than enough time for the image to etch itself into hazel eyes; the graceful curve of the blade, poised and ready, asking Sam to sing.

There was a time when Sam could have held onto his sanity, but now the not so distant past feels like the dream, and nightmares from his childhood have suddenly become the reality beyond all possibility of denial.

His heart shudders in his chest as his captor draws nearer, leering down into his face with an over-exaggerated amusement. The shudder turns to a frantic pace as the knife whistles through the air to taste the skin of his cheek; but it doesn’t kiss him, not yet.

Gentle strokes of the blade brush his hair, tangled and matted with sweat, out of his face as the black eyes lean to meet his own. His greatest fear comes to life.

Sam cries, he can’t stop it, he thinks he should feel ashamed but there is only one person who could ever stop the nightmares, and he’s gone, and now if life itself has become a nightmare, then Sam isn’t surprised. Fighting an irrational fear is impossible, even in the sun soaked light of day.

He was never trained for something like this.

“ _No, don’t, please … God, please”_ The words are coming from somewhere far away, Sam is choking on his tears, struggling for air, fighting against the weight of terror in his chest.

His captor smiles, leaning in even closer, observing and enjoying the effect his presence is having. Slowly the smile turns into a leer. He grips Sam’s chin roughly, raising his head to press the cool metal of the blade to the tender skin of Sam’s throat.

When he speaks, his tone is cool and conversational.

“Want to know how I got these scars?”


End file.
